


Never Smile at a Sabercat

by Kalimdor



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:28:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24059746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalimdor/pseuds/Kalimdor
Summary: The elven Kingdom of Quel'Thalas have long since isolated herself from the rest of the warring human nations of Lordaeron, waiting safe behind her borders until the turbulant matters settle themselves. However, a boatful of human refugees ending up on Quel'Thalas shores, lead by a defiant young mage with the most startling blue eyes, becomes one of the first human nations to settle on elven lands in millenia.Quickly falling for this human, Sylvanas resorts to taking the next step in their relationship, only to find out that nobody ever gave poor Jaina a pamphlet on elven courting rituals.Just a two parter with some sexy times- hope you enjoy ^^
Relationships: Jaina Proudmoore/Sylvanas Windrunner
Comments: 40
Kudos: 295





	Never Smile at a Sabercat

**Author's Note:**

> Not canon- no third war ever happened. Jaina founded Theramore as a means of providing both her and her people an escape from the tyranny of her father and her own arranged betrothal to Prince Arthas Menethil. 
> 
> The kindom of Quel'Thalas has long since isolated themselves, hence why both elves and humans have had little interaction with one another.

Sylvanas hums quietly to herself as she returns home from training, emulating a pleasant tune she remembered once hearing from her mother in her youth. 

It was a good day. She’d isolated a point of problem in one of her newer trainees, something that had worried her deeply when one of her most promising shooters struggled so much on the endurance sections of her training. The slight wheeze to her breaths, the constant coughing- Sylvanas only wished she’d figured it out sooner. 

Perhaps  _ good _ was maybe not the word to describe such a situation but there had been an overwhelming sense of  _ relief  _ from both captain and trainee to finally shed light on the problem. A medical problem that could be tackled, not cured but  _ solved  _ with both Liadrin’s help and some minor adjustments to her workout regime. To think the poor girl had been hiding it, terrified that such a minor ailment would have her kicked from the program-  _ never! _ \-  _ Belore  _ itself could freeze over before she’d leave one of her own behind. 

Sylvanas had held her through her impassioned sobs of relief, placating her with soothing words that no, she wasn’t booted from the squad and  _ no  _ she wasn’t doomed to end up an  _ arcanist’s apprentice _ \- which she’d had to duck her face away to hide a secret smile, imagining the indignant look on Jaina’s face if she’d overheard that. 

_ Jaina.  _ Sylvanas’s gentle humming stops as she cracks a fond smile. The human mage has been living with her for some time now. When she’d fled with what remained of her nation from the wrath of her very own father, Sylvanas and her platoon had been one of the first to greet the band of terrified, malnourished humans who’d stumbled from their ships ashore. They had babbled to her in a frenzied, unfamiliar language which Sylvanas hadn’t understood then, only soothed when she’d offered them the universal gesture of splaying out her palms in a manner that said ‘ _ calm down.’  _

The Kingdom of Quel’Thalas had been isolated from the young human nations for millenia and Sylvanas could tell by the distaste on Prince Kael’Thas’s face that he seemed more than reluctant in breaking that cycle. Humans were a young, volatile race- greedy and quick to anger and _ constantly  _ at war, squabbling amongst themselves as they divided up land and beat their chests about which fledgling nation had the pointiest sticks. Kael’Thas’s father, and the then ruler of Quel’Thalas, King Anasterian, had eventually lost his patience, drawn some harsh lines on a map and retreated his Kingdom and his people safely behind its borders. He vowed that the Quel’Dorei people had no business until the ripples on the turbulent lake settled. 

Perhaps a wise action back then; but as Sylvanas watched these despondent humans help one another stumbled across the sand, clutching fistfuls of dirt in disbelief at being on land and comforting those who cried, she felt a strange sense of unease to be the one who’d ultimately have to enforce the order of turning them away. 

Kael’Thas had strode through the parting crowd of refugees, the heavy red fabric of his cloak whipping behind him as he motioned for Sylvanas to join him on the jetty. 

“A mage!” He’d commanded to them as they’d shrank back from his impervious glare, interpreting his frustration as one of hostility. “If we are to establish contact I need one of you to be a mage!” 

Greeted by silence he’d huffed out an anguished sigh before his hands lit up in a glow of arcane, tracing a couple of simple runes on his wrist and holding them aloft like a beacon. The crowd murmured amongst themselves in that strange, blocky language before they parted to let a young woman through. 

She was filthy, thin as a rake, to the point that Sylvanas subtly winced at the sharpness of her shoulders and the way she’d wrapped her hands around her spindly elbows in the way that only the half-starved would, with no healthy layer of fat to keep out the cold. But her eyes, they’d shone so bright- maybe because of the residue of arcane that burned behind them, but also in such  _ defiance. _ This was a woman who, despite looking on the verge of collapse, had raged against her fate, that  _ still _ continued to do so. She imagined that if Kael’Thas were to strike at her now, she would fight back- as weak as she currently was. 

The woman held up her own skeletal wrist and, with a grimace as though the use of her magic pained her, copied the runes and offered her arm to Kael’Thas. 

For a moment Sylvanas worried that the Prince would not take it, his glowing eyes narrowing at the thought of touching the grime-streaked skin, but eventually he seemed to push past his trepidations and clasped at her forearm while she did the same. For a while the two stood, glaring at one another and Sylvanas couldn’t help but admire the stubborn set of the human’s jaw, the way her gaze unflinchingly held his as they conversed mentally with the ancient use of arcane. 

For the first time ever, Sylvanas wished that she too were trained in the arts, just to get a glimpse of what they both were saying. Kael’Thas’s expression remained smooth in its neutrality but Sylvanas didn’t miss the subtle shift of his ears as they flicked back in surprise. After what felt like an eternity, the two both dropped their hands to their side and Kael’Thas nodded at her once before turning to Sylvanas, his voice dropping to a hushed murmur despite the fact that it was clear none of these humans understood Thalassian. 

“It seems that the human nations are in even more discourse than we ever thought possible- though, as predicted, one is finally coming out on top.” 

“And I can safely assume that it’s not this one.” Sylvanas murmured, eyeing the displaced crowd milling around on the shoreline and of the boats in the distance, heavy in the water from what she imagined were even more lost souls. 

Kael’Thas made a noise in agreement. “Although from what I gathered, this is less of a nation defeated from war but one that was built to flee from it in the first place.” The elven prince shrugged and gestured in the human’s direction, lips pursed in an unhappy line. “It’s a sad tale really, betrothed to a tyrant, fleeing to escape and setting up an entire nation only to end up hunted down and chased across the waves by your very own father. Humans really are a cruel, barbaric bunch.” 

“Wait, are you suggesting that this woman is their leader?” Sylvanas exclaimed, eyes wide. The young mage didn’t look much past the tender age of twenty summers. Though with her woefully limited interaction with humans, she couldn’t be too sure.

“Unfortunately so.” Kael’Thas sighed. “Too young really, to handle such a heavy burden alone,” before his eyes steeled over and he straightened his shoulders. “But alas, it is not an issue of our concern.” 

“Wait…” Sylvanas reeled her head around in shock. “You’re going to just send them on their way?” 

Kael’Thas fixed her with a grave stare. “It’s what our nation has done for centuries, we cannot meddle with the politics of humans lest we bring the very wrath these poor fools are trying to run from down upon our own heads.” 

“Prince Sunstrider-” 

“I will not be swayed on the matter, Ranger Captain, see to it we have these humans back on their ships and reeling in their anchors, or we will be forced to treat them officially as trespassers.” He surreptitiously eyed the bow strapped to Sylvanas’s back. “Let’s hope they don’t put up too much of a fight.” 

Kael’Thas reached out with those glowing runes again and the young human responded accordingly, and the carefully schooled expression on her face, the desperation in which she so carefully hid- the glimmer of hope that flashed across her features that Sylvanas could tell she was struggling to tamp down on. It was too much. Her heart twisted, her stomach felt sick and before she knew it, her own hand clamped down on Kael’Thas’s wrist, pulling his arm away. 

“Ranger-  _ Sylvanas!”  _ Kael’Thas admonished in a hiss between his teeth. “Do not undermine my-” 

“-Is this the legacy you want to leave?” Sylvanas remembered the words rushing out of her in one breath, before she swallowed and tried again as Kael’thas ears flattened. “Do you, when your divine rule comes to an end and you  _ know  _ it will- one day- eventually...” Sylvanas winced at the fire in his eyes, not because she was afraid of  _ him  _ but more at the thought that  _ Minn’da _ would most certainly clobber over the head with a wooden spoon at her bold words- or congratulate her- maybe a bit of both…

She made a frustrated noise at the back of her throat and squared her shoulders, tilting her chin up. “What I am trying to say is that you have a choice here; to be known as the Prince who, both mighty and kind, offered aid to these humans- that the nation of Quel’Thalas was a compassionate one. Or,” Sylvanas’s eyebrow quirked in challenge, “do you wish to be known as the cowardly ruler who hid behind his own walls, turned away those who were desperate because he was afraid of tempting the wrath that might follow. Because, Prince Sunstrider I know which one I’d much rather serve.” Her voice gentled as she turned to look into the human’s eyes, still so startlingly bright and blue. “C’mon Kael our own _ancestors_ came to these shores as exiles and refugees once… don’t be afraid to do the right thing.” 

And so it had been then that the citizens of the ruined nation of Theramore found a place for themselves here. A small, nautical town, under the banner of Eternal Quel’thalas. She’d remembered the smile of disbelief on the mage’s face when Kael’Thas gripped her hand and delivered her the news, welcoming her and her people under his protection. She remembered realizing for the first time, as the human smiled, just how pretty she looked under all that grime. 

She’d then turned to Sylvanas and dipped her knee toward the ground in what she imagined was a gesture of respect or formal greeting, before offering her some rushed words that Sylvanas lamented she could not understand. Eventually the human gave up and pointed to herself. 

“Jaina” she’d said and the ranger found herself relaxing, finally able to find some common ground they could get started with. 

She repeated the action, tapping the center of her own chest with a bemused, yet intrigued smile. “Sylvanas.” 

The human’s answering grin was radiant. 

\-----

Of course, that was five years ago. Sylvanas still likes to smile at the fond memories of that first awkward greeting, even as her heart still aches at that woeful image of  _ her _ Jaina, filthy and skinny and on the brink of losing hope. She remembers fondly of the many stilted conversations that followed; the tale of two souls that so desperately wished to connect, hindered by the barrier that was language. Jaina had started under Kael’Thas’s tuition, both in language and in magic, before Sylvanas finally had enough and snatched her away and taught her how to speak Thalassian properly and not in his haughty insufferable accent. 

She’d learned at such an alarming rate as well, a real delight to teach. At first it was shy, stumbling conversations, then it was an excited chatter about arcane and archery- and soon their language lessons took place on horseback when Sylvanas discovered their mutual love of riding. Sitting astride Thalassian chargers under the dappled shade of the forest and surrounded with the familiar scent of leather and horse sweat, Jaina truly began to open up- and it was a discovery both wondrous and sad, one that only served to enchant Sylvanas more. 

And she was loved by the Windrunner family. 

So loved. 

Her mother welcomed her with open arms, Alleria tolerated her which was, well, to be expected and Lirath and Vereesa... they both had a friendship with her that rivalled her own, and didn’t make Sylvanas jealous in the slightest. No, not at all. 

All in all, this brave little human with those adorable tiny ears, sparkling blue eyes, soft blonde hair and a smattering of freckles,  _ blessings from Belore-  _ as her mother would say _ , _ was a wondrous addition to their lives. 

And it was about time Sylvans made that official. 

At home Jaina is waiting, most likely assisting Lirath in his own studies. Her magic had been strange at first, one that was all wild energies and dark hymns to the sea- but it didn’t take long for both her and Kael’Thas to translate their methods and find out that arcane, no matter how one learned it, was the same cosmic power with the same rules that both casters had to adhere to. Lirath follows her around like an eager puppy, despite the fact that he technically has a couple centuries on the human, and the two get on thick as thieves- even if Sylvanas calls them nerds from time to time. It’s not like the insufferable mage doesn’t deserve it, it was a dark time in the Windrunner household the day that Jaina Proudmoore learned the art of Thalassian bantering. 

Sylvanas is digressing, but she’s just so damn excited. And nervous. 

She thinks that Jaina will rise to meet her like she always does, a joyous grin that lights up her eyes that Sylvanas fell in love with the day she met her. Perhaps they will prepare a meal together, if Alleria bothered to go hunting like she said she would- or maybe they will take a stroll to the market. Sylvanas will buy her one of those sweet buns she knows Jaina enjoys, even if she mulishly goes on about how much sugar they put in everything. 

Perhaps they will sit in the dim candlelight and Sylvanas might play a tune on the piano, copying the notes she was humming earlier. 

Then tonight… perhaps… 

A flash of hopeful lust coils in her lower belly and further feeds into the fire that is her good mood this golden evening. 

For tonight she will reach out to Jaina and they will take their next step together, as friends, as partners. As lovers. 

_ Together.  _

She sees movement through the kitchen window as she strolls up the winding pathway toward the Spire’s grand entrance. She hears an outraged growl from Lirath followed by what sounds like a struggle punctuated with a crow of victory from Vereesa and Jaina’s bark of happy laughter. 

Sylvanas’s heart swells at the sound. Her breath quickens with her steps. 

She cannot wait to get home. 

\--------

They are sitting on the patio outside, night air still warm despite the sun having long since sunk over the horizon- leaving only a thin red line where the sea kisses the sky. The crickets chirp noisily behind them and every so often Sylvanas’s ears twitch at the gentle crash of the waves against the rocks below. 

Jaina is weaving arcane patterns with her left hand before pausing to write something on the notepad resting on her lap. Her right hand is stained where she’s accidentally brushed against the still drying ink, a mistake she still often makes in her unfamiliarity in writing from right to left. It’s unbearably cute.

Sylvanas shifts closer, resting her chin on the humans shoulder to half glance at the work and half gauge her companion’s candle-lit profile. 

Jaina’s been studying the Quel’Thalas curriculum- her language is more than adept now that she can speak like a native, but a few of the other humans of her runaway nation are still struggling- mostly the older population whose minds are sluggish to pick up new information. Jaina taught her a saying about old dogs and new tricks that she doesn’t quite understand- considering she’s never seen a dog in her life- but she uses it anyway when teasing Jaina’s older friend Cyrus. A man who, despite having a tendency to butcher her language to the point that Sylvanas just gives up and speaks to him Common, is someone she loves very much. More so when she heard it was him who’d ferried Jaina out of the security that the Menethil Kingdom had placed her under the week before her ill fated wedding- a man who’d acted more of a father figure that Daelin ever had. 

Jaina plans to start teaching both children and adults alike what the Thalassian schools offered- their lessons in language, art, history and math to get a better understanding of the Kingdom they now lived in. 

Sylvanas agrees it's a good idea. Not only will it give people a better grasp on the language, it will help them integrate better- have them understand one another’s culture, which has been a struggle even for her and Jaina, as close as they are. 

It feels strange, how two species can look so alike yet be so vastly different. 

She remembers a year or so ago, when Jaina was flipping through the biological text books she’d asked Sylvanas to fetch her- her hands had momentarily paused from turning the pages as her eyes took in the diagram of a naked elven body, a gentle flush at her cheeks when her eyes scanned over the outline of the curriculum. Sex education. 

_ I can show you.  _ Sylvanas remembered her incessant thoughts baying, how her fingers had twiched to soothe the errant strands of hair away from Jaina’s face as she’d squinted at the words, before seeming to notice Sylvanas’s presence in the room, flushing and quickly flipping the pages over to something more banal in topic. She’d curbed her tongue, admonishing herself that it was too quick, too  _ soon. _

But  _ now, _ now the evening is positively divine, even the air smells good- like fresh rain and honeysuckle. The sticky heat from yesterday is gone, much to the human’s relief, but it's still pleasantly warm, enough that Jaina bathed in it all day today and Sylvanas  _ swears  _ yet more freckles have joined the masses spread across her shoulders. 

She wishes to kiss each and every one. 

She moves even closer, to the point that her chest presses against Jaina’s back. The young human’s fingers still from their writing and her breath hitches, but she does not protest. 

It really is a lovely evening. Sylvanas tells her so, and feels the vibration of Jaina’s hum of agreement rumble against where their skin touches. For a moment they continue to focus on their tasks, Jaina with her writing down her translations and Sylvanas with her pretending to focus on what she’s doing. 

The ranger wills herself to be brave. Tonight is such a lovely night- and it’s a night for  _ more.  _

Sylvanas lets her hands edge along Jaina’s sides, sliding her fingers across the warm skin of her bare upper thigh. Emboldened by the human’s silence, she lifs her head slightly, breath tickling the nape of Jaina's neck where she now notices the fine, blonde hairs have prickled in response. 

Her fingers skim across the jutting outline of a hipbone, a daring ranger-scout venturing into forests unknown, her nose barely brushes against the soft skin and she can  _ smell  _ the sun on Jaina, along with the metallic tinge of saltwater-arcane and the residue of the laundry soap they use. 

_ Belore,  _ Jaina already smells like hers. Sylvanas stifles a groan at the back of her throat. 

Her fingers trail then  _ lower,  _ curving toward the sensitive skin of an inner thigh at the same time that she gently presses her lips against the juncture between neck and shoulder. 

Jaina lets out a sharp noise of alarm, and the pen slips from her grasp. 

Sylvanas immediately jerks away, hands lifting away from the human as though she’s been burned. That wasn’t the sound she had been expecting, that wasn’t a  _ good  _ sound at all. 

  
  


Jaina abruptly shuffles around to stare at her, wide-eyed, notepad clutched protectively against her chest. 

“Sylvanas?” Her voice is confused, wary. 

That simple utterance of her name in that tone slams into Sylvanas with all the force of those waves crashing against the rocks below. 

Sylvanas’s ears pin back in concern. Her shoulders straighten as though her body unconsciously is preparing to fight against some unseen threat...or to run away. 

“Jaina…” She blurts out, wanting to place a comforting hand on the human’s shoulder but at the same time scared to lay a finger on her at all. “I’m sorry, did I frighten you?” 

Jaina’s Thalassian is remarkable, but fits of frustration or fear tend to jumble her tongue and her lips part several times as she tries to piece together what she wants to say. It takes everything in Sylvanas not to nuzzle at Jaina with a soothing purr to calm her frightened companion. 

So she sits patiently and allows Jaina her space, she deserves that much and more. 

“I… what… why would you…” Jaina stutters and Sylvanas tilts her head, swallowing at the mist of unease cloying at the back of her throat. 

“Did you... not like it?” 

Jaina looks at her like she’s grown a second head before seeming to shuffle in on herself and hug her knees close to her chest, carefully laying the notepad aside. 

“I...it's just all very… sudden!” Her voice comes out as a squeak, the blush on her cheeks positively crimson. 

Sylvanas frowns, remembering their gentle, tentative touches. How Jaina had hummed when Sylvans traced a finger over the shell of a rounded ear, before she’d shyly done the same. How she’d accepted Sylvanas providing her counter offer to the Prince’s advances- the heady thrill Sylvanas had felt when Jaina had publicly and  _ proudly  _ walked into her outstretched arms on the dancefloor as Kael’s expression turned borderline  _ thunderous.  _

“Sudden?” Sylvanas questions, her long brows furrowing. “My love, I’ve been courting you for  _ months.”  _

Jaina’s response was more blustering, more frantic waving of her hands before she managed to find the right word. Instead she settled for one in Common. “B-bullshit!” 

Any other situation and Sylvanas might have laughed at that, now however, it has her hackles raised, like a lynx cub being admonished for jumping on the counter. Part of her wants to snap out a wounded retort for having her words so abruptly dismissed. 

“Jaina.” She keeps her voice low, slow- her posture and expression as calm and serious as she can manage. “I formally challenged Kael’Thas on the ballroom floor last midsummer's eve-” 

“What, where you jokingly threatened him to a duel?” Jaina laughs nervously only for it to trail off when Sylvanas shakes her head, confused. 

“That wasn’t a joke?” Sylvanas feels the prickle of unease, a cold amounting dread that coils like a leaden rope in the pit of her stomach, something that she chooses not to address. 

“I-”

“Jaina, what did you think was happening? When I invited you into the protection of my home, when I hunted you your first meal and presented the kill, asking if I was sufficient in providing for your needs.” The warm night air suddenly feels a little too damp, she really should have lit the braziers. Why did she choose to sit out here, with Jaina’s back against the cold hard stone- why did she not even think to bring _ blankets?  _ The roar of the surf below isn’t soothing at all, it’s a disjointed slap against the jagged rocks below, rocks that Sylvanas is quickly resisting the urge to hurl herself onto. “When I started touching you gently, stroking your ears. I…  _ darling _ , I’ve been making my advances...and you’ve been returning them.” 

“I…” Jaina’s eyes impossibly get wider and after a heinously long pause she looks at the ground, eyes far-off and glazed as though she is in shock.  _ “Oh.”  _

The last flicker of joy freezes in Sylvanas’s chest, her guts squirm, and something worse, a horrible sensation that crawls its way languidly up her spine and seizes painfully at the back of her throat. 

Shame. 

And suddenly Sylvanas feels old, ancient even. She wants to curl in on herself, become part of the stonework and refuse to emerge for ten thousand summers- wants the sun to cycle a million times and the oceans to rise, washing away all evidence of her humiliation. 

“I forget.” She chokes out, forcing the words past her seizing throat. “You are so new to all this- our ways foreign to you.” 

A great sadness builds within her, the red glow on the horizon fades, along with her last dregs of happiness, leaving her hopeless and empty. 

“Forgive me Jaina, I did not realize. This must be all so… unpleasant for you.” 

“Sylvanas wait-”

“I would  _ never  _ force you.” Her voice becomes passionate, pleading. “You need not be with me to retain my friendship or my protection, you are a part of this household no matter what-  _ please  _ know this.” 

“Sylvanas-”

“And if… if my presence pains you I will give you space, I can take one of the far away guest rooms, or maybe I’ll just get in touch with Marrah and she’ll let me stay at hers for a few-” 

“Sylvanas!” Jaina snaps, fingers pressed against her temples. “Just...give me a moment, please.” 

She obeys, her fangs letting out a small, audible click as she clamps her jaw shut, poised as still as the hunter-goddess statue in the centre of the patio. 

“Sylvanas…” Jaina starts, her voice gentle, and Sylvanans feels yet another flash of guilt that Jaina has to be the one to sooth  _ her  _ when she was the one that pulled this stunt, based off of idiotic, close-minded assumptions in the first place. 

She feels pathetic.

“Sylvanas, I’m not upset with you.” 

The elven ranger's downward spiral of misery comes to a halt, but still remains low, reflected by her ears pressed flat against her skull. 

“But you did not appreciate my actions just now.” Sylvanas winces even as she utters those words.

“I wouldn’t say that.” Jaina seems to be biting back words herself, a frown to her lips as though she too is struggling to give voice to what she’s thinking. “I would be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about... it myself. I’ve been so close to you for so long, indebted to you in more ways than one. You  _ saved  _ me Sylvanas, you saved my people- but-” And she holds a hand up before the elf can protest. 

“It wasn’t because of that- and you’ve never made me feel like I had to owe you anything. You’re such a  _ good  _ person Sylvanas, humorous, kind...” Jaina’s eyes soften. “And I  _ have  _ thought about it… I’ve thought about it a lot, but I could never have imagined that you…” She gestures lamely in the elf’s direction, the flush back in her cheeks and restlessness that shows she has no idea what to do with herself right now.

Sylvanas freezes, her fingertips all but digging into the stone. 

“I’ve never… done anything… like this.” Jaina eventually supplies. “I fooled around a bit… before.. but fleeing my father, founding Theramore, being chased across an ocean, meeting you-  _ Belore,  _ Sylvanas.” Jaina’s voice turns inwardly bitter. “I’m a couple years off  _ thirty  _ and I’ve never been in a relationship!” 

“I could show you.” Sylvanas murmurs, her voice a soothing rumble in her chest as she dares to take Jaina’s hand in hers. “I could help you discover that part of your life. You have been through so much by yourself, with nobody to guide you, but this, this doesn’t have to be something scary. This is something we can discover together. Not alone,  _ never  _ alone.” 

Jaina lets out a shaky breath but thankfully,  _ mercifully,  _ does not pull her hand from Sylvanas’s grip. “I’m sorry I never realized before-”

“No.” Sylvanas’s voice is stern, but her eyes are soft as she brings her other hand up to clutch Jaina’s between them. “This was my fault, you are such a quick learner, so adept in picking up our language, our customs. I forget, sometimes, how new and strange all of this must feel to you.” 

“Have you done this-?” Jaina trails off, suddenly embarrassed for even wanting to ask.

“-Taken a sexual partner? Yes.” Sylvanas quickly replies, before seeming unsatisfied with that answer. “But, to me, this is different- the way I approached you was one of seeking a long term partnership, not just a simple attraction.” She laughs once without humor, “I’ve always been rather impulsive, selfish. I think Minn’da believed I’d never settle down, but it wasn’t until I met you that I felt such a desire to have someone to live for, to care for.” 

Jaina’s eyes widen as though it’s suddenly all making sense. “That’s why she kept goading me all the time in private, asking if you were looking after me properly.” 

“Was she now?” Sylvanas chuckles through her nerves. “I’m glad, I imagine she worries a lot that I’m going to screw up,” then her expression morphs into one of bitterness. “I suppose she wasn’t wrong, I already have.” 

“You haven’t” Jaina scoots closer. “I just never thought someone like you would ever even consider someone like me. Sylvanas, you’re practically famous. A member of a prominent house- well on her way to becoming Ranger General someday and on top of that you’re… you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” Jaina lets out those words as though she’s been struggling to contain them for so long, with such an open and honest expression on her face that Sylvanas has to remind herself to breathe.  _ She has no idea does she? Just how captivating every movement she makes is.  _

“Forgive me for asking this but, do you… know what a mirror is. Do humans own them? Because I would like to deny that statement if you've looked upon your own reflection.” Sylvanas’s lips betray a small smirk even as her cheeks flush. She’s been called beautiful many a time but coming from Jaina, it feels just so undeniably  _ good  _ to hear. Jaina laughs and lightly swats her arm only for Sylvanas to gently grab her wrist and dare to press a soft kiss against her knuckles. “You’re beautiful Jaina, inside and out. I fell for that brave young woman who dredged herself up on our shores all those years ago, I fell for that first night when you cried because you were so grateful that  _ Minn’da _ fed you soup and when Lirath talked to you via the Arcane and declared on the spot that you were his new best friend. I fell for the sharp witted woman that ran our insufferable Prince around in circles and rebuffed his advances... even if you did so subconsciously.” Sylvanas chuckles and strokes a thumb over the knuckles she’d just kissed as she feels Jaina tremble against her touch. But this time, from the glassy tears in her eyes and the joyous smile to her lips, Sylvanas ventures that this was a good reaction.  _ Anar’alah  _ she really, really hopes that’s the case. 

“Sylvanas-” Jaina’s voice comes out half a whimper and this time Sylvanas  _ knows  _ what she wants- its almost undeniable from the way her eyes flick to Sylvanas’s lips and then almost guiltily back to her face. From the way she shuffles, thighs pressing together and the scent of her body downright  _ delectable.  _ But she has to make sure, she can’t risk misinterpreting things like she did before. 

_ When an elf bares their fangs in a grin, it’s often a happy gesture, but to a sabercat it's no more than a vicious threat.  _

“I would like to kiss you.” Sylvanas keeps her intentions clear, her voice low and her posture relaxed, even as her thoughts bay out for more. To grasp at Jaina’s waist and pull her closer, to twist her fingers in her hair and bring her mouth possessively to hers. To nibble at her throat and kiss and nip at her jaw before sinking fangs into her neck.  _ Belore  _ be her witness, she wants to do just that, to mark Jaina fall all to see, to fuck her into the matress until her voice is hoarse from screaming and she can’t walk properly the next day...but no,  _ not yet.  _ Not with the feral-ferocity that her elven body demands. She needs to take this slow, gentle- be the perfect lover for her perfect human. 

“That would be most… preferable if you did.” Jaina’s Thalassian is so formal at times, curse Kael’Thas for getting to her first, but heart wrenchingly adorable. Sylvanas cups her jaw, shuffles closer so that she can feel Jaina’s heartbeat hammering against her chest and slowly, almost languidly, brushes her lips over hers. It’s warm, soft, perfect and Sylvanas finds that her previous good mood from the earlier afternoon has not only returned but increased tenfold, her lips glued to the woman she loves. She’s joyous, jubilant, she feels as though she could leap from the platform and sail into the heavens so long as she has the warmth of this wonderous human in her arms. This night did not turn out the way she expected but somehow… this is better, so much better. 

**Author's Note:**

> Part 2 up very soon!


End file.
